


What You're Missing, What You've Got

by PleaseDonateBlood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Amputation, Amputee Remus, Amputee Sirius, Angst, Chronically Ill Remus, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Yes another hospital au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleaseDonateBlood/pseuds/PleaseDonateBlood
Summary: Sirius felt the irrational fury jolt through him again, and he could hear it seeping into his angry words. “Shut up. You don’t know the first thing about me so don’t-”Remus laughed at that, the sound hard and bitter, and Sirius hated that he was half entranced with hearing a genuine expression of emotion, being near a real person, one who was -“Please, Sirius. The nurses walk down the hallway discussing your bowel movements. There’s not anyone on this unit who doesn’t know the first thing about you.”Sirius felt his jaw drop in bewilderment, felt the blush creeping onto his cheeks as Remus glanced down at him and smirked, all dry amusement and mocking and Sirius was having difficulty clinging to his righteous fury.Or, Sirius is on the inpatient rehabilitation unit following a leg amputation, but he won't go to physical therapy or occupational therapy or any other stupid therapy because what's the point?(whatever the question is, the answer is Remus)





	1. The Beginning (of the rest) Of Your Life

When the door quietly clicked open for the seventh time that morning (and yes, Sirius was most certainly counting), he resolutely ignored the distant bustle of the maddeningly cheerful nurses in the hallway and the burning pain that there was nothing phantom about as it slashed through his clear thinking every other minute. Mostly, though, he ignored whatever stupid staff member they were sending in now to try to bully him into physical therapy as if there was any point to even getting out of bed ever again. He hadn’t chosen to transfer to the stupid physical therapy unit and they’d already chosen enough for him, had already taken his -

He didn’t even fight them on vitals anymore, swallowed the disgusting meds, hell, he let them  _ bathe  _ him which was a level of self-disgust even  _ he  _ hadn’t reached before but they just pushed and pushed and sent in  _ everyone  _ and asked about who they could call, who they could call for him as if he  _ had  _ anyone to -

He clenched his eyes tightly closed and pushed his face deeper into his pillow, lip curling in disgust at the antiseptic smell that seemed to coat everything in this ridiculous prison of stark white walls and sympathetic nodding. He took a deep, shaky breath, determined not to cry in front of whoever it was he could feel staring at him from beside the window. Whatever. He’d already been here 7 endless days in acute care and recovery and whatever else, and 2 eternal days on this unit of either snapping at or ignoring every person to set foot in the room meant he could outlast whoever they’d sent to “persuade” him this time. Surprising they hadn’t already started their lecture.

“Hey. 617.”

The voice was young, too young to be a staff member. Almost like a boy his own age, definitely not over 19. A volunteer or something? His dull wondering curdled into anger as the voice scoffed, and he growled but didn’t move an inch besides clenching his hand more tightly in the sheets when a flare of pain burned through his - stump. Whatever whatever whatever.

“Not very phantom, is it?”

He raised an eyebrow, then quickly arranged his face back into a hostile expression, his eyes still closed. There was an audible smirk in the voice somehow, and his fist was shaking of rage now, because how dare-

“Avoiding looking at it won’t change a thing.” The voice was challenging, an edge that wasn’t quite mocking.

His eyes flew open in surprise despite himself, and his eyes took a moment to focus on the figure sitting on the ledge of his window. The boy was tall, Sirius noted distractedly, long legs in faded jeans and tawny hair framing a thin face that looked a bit too pale, but all of this fell to the background as Sirius stared at his expression. He wasn’t even sure what it was about seeing a face that didn’t belong to a medical team member who all wore that perfect mask of encouragement or concern or chiding that was slowly driving him  _ insane _ , but even the easy smirk was making his eyes fill and he absolutely could not handle a drop more humiliation. He squeezed his eyes shut again, taking a deep breath, then took another deep breath as he remembered what the boy had said.

“Get out.” He didn’t quite snarl, but it was close. He didn’t care how the boy had guessed, that he didn’t dare look because he didn’t know what he would do once - it was already too  _ real.  _ But he’d had enough people walking into his room and talking about him like a  _ thing  _ and he was unbalanced enough as it was - He choked on a hysterical laugh. Unbalanced. He’d never balance again. It was definitely too soon.

There was another scoff, and he hunched his shoulders as another bolt of fury surged through him. “Get out.” He repeated in a low voice, keeping his eyes closed and wincing at a wave of pain. How the hell did they manage to take away half a limb and leave him in more pain than he’d been in coming in? He gritted his teeth. Don’t think about it. Whatever. Whatever whatever whatever. The door hadn’t clicked again, which meant the guy was still here. He slitted his eyes open into a glare and saw that he was still casually leaning back on the windowsill, watching him, his expression inexplicably almost irritated but open in a way that terrified Sirius somehow. They could be anywhere, sitting as two guys at a bus stop or in a library or at school. Except that they couldn’t, because how would he get to any of those places, how would he get anywhere when he...

And the blanket dipped down empty on the right and his throat felt so thick and he would not cry, he wasn’t going to cry, he hadn’t let himself, because if he cried it was real. If he cried, this was his life. But he wasn’t going to go to stupid physical therapy either, wasn’t going to obediently go to PT and exercise or whatever and pretend he was just going to go on with his life, as if he had a life anymore, as if… And damn them if they thought sending in a kid his age, some hospital volunteer probably, after all the stupid doctors and nurses and therapists and social workers - he didn’t care. Fine, maybe his eyes were burning at having company, at having anyone his age, a real person around. And it didn’t hurt that he was cute, Sirius’ mind whispered, but he shook his head. He didn’t care, he didn’t care he didn’t care and he wasn’t going to listen and they could do whatever they wanted, send whoever they wanted. Eventually, they’d give up on him too. Everyone always would. He already had a long time ago, and now-

“Hey. 617.” He said firmly, and Sirius saw he was now sitting with a leg extended on the windowsill, the other swinging against the wall, and he glared at the boy with a pang of fury that he couldn’t explain.

“I said get. Out.” He spat, trying to keep his face from creasing as another wave of pain streaked through his - what was left of his leg.

“You did. Three times. If I was going to, I’d probably have gone by now, huh?”

His voice was dry, an eyebrow raised, and Sirius felt the slightest confusion, but it was wiped away by the rage. He fought to keep his voice steady even as it shook with anger, with pain, with exhaustion.

“I know what you’re here for and I don’t care. I’m not going to PT. Get out.”

The boy’s expression didn’t falter, and he tilted his head, light hair falling across his bright golden eyes. “Well, you should definitely go to PT. But what is it I’m here for?”

Sirius felt something in him snap. “Do you all really think I’m that stupid? Everyone outside, all of them, ‘617 should be declared incompetent’ and ‘617 isn’t - adjusting’ and, they - ‘617 and his denial’ and - talking about me like I’m some - like I’m some idiot who doesn’t understand what he’s - I understand perfectly, just because I don’t pretend - just because I won’t-” He was yelling, but his weak voice hardly carried and it cracked as he felt despair well in him, and it wasn’t fair and - “I’m not going to talk to some social worker about ‘adjusting’ or - or go to stupid physical therapy to learn how to live with - to live like - I’m not - I don’t - I can’t - I can’t do this, I can’t do it, I don’t want to, I…” He tried, he really did try to suppress the sob that burst from his chest, but he supposed this is why the nurses had kept telling him to talk about it, to let himself cry, because now it wouldn’t stop. He was aware on some level, as he sobbed into his pillow, that the boy had crossed the room to perch on the edge of his bed, but when a warm hand wrapped around his, he didn’t think twice about crushing it in his own, his other hand fisted in his covers and his shoulders shaking as tears poured down his face because  _ he couldn’t do this he couldn’t live like this and now he was - now he would- _

“I’d be careful saying you don’t wanna live like this, though.” His voice was smooth and conversational as he calmly spoke over Sirius’ sobs, his gaze on the opposite wall, allowing Sirius the dignity to shudder and breathe and wipe his tears on the pillowcase. “If they call in a psych eval on you and you don’t pass, there’s a lot more they can make you do under suicide precautions, and lying under your sheets there’ll be off the table completely.”

Sirius’ mind was fuzzy after his outburst, and he was sure he looked bewildered, because the guy looked  almost amused as he glanced down at him and added, “And the meds they can pump you with, practically tranqs, turn you into cattle. Trust me, really best not.”

Sirius took a deep breath, his brain blurring with exhaustion and pain as his leg flared, and he bit his lip, determined not to show any further weakness.

As soon as he realized, he ripped his hand away from the boy’s, his face flushing with humiliation. Anger wasn’t far behind, and he let it show on his face, but the boy leaning against his headboard just quirked his lips up and Sirius dropped his gaze because the smirk was so  _ so  _ different from the smiles of the staff and he couldn’t let himself - he couldn’t fall for it. That’s what they wanted, that’s why they sent him. Hell, maybe they thought he’d be Sirius’ type, and maybe he was, but - Sirius shook himself. He’d let his guard down, he’d - he’d  _ cried  _ , and he’d be damned if he was going to let this random boy waltz in and make him go to pointless physical therapy, and -

“You already know what you have to do.” The boy’s eyes were firmly fixed on the stupid oil painting Sirius had glared at all morning, and the firmness of his voice made Sirius’ chest clench. His mind was still sluggish, and a pang of embarrassment flushed his cheeks at the blurred memory. He’d cried, and the boy had just… sat there. Held his hand. It was almost… But. He worked for them. They’d sent him in as a last resort, he was just another one of them coming in to convince the stupid patient to do what was in his best interest and to accept that his life was basically  _ this  _ now and to… he wasn’t going to do PT. He would not. No matter what this boy did or said. What did he know anyway, waltzing into the room as if he knew anything, as if he could possibly understand -

Another burning wave shot through his calf, and he growled at the injustice of it. There wasn’t a calf there, how the hell did it hurt this much? The neuropsych consult had earned him nothing when he glared him down as he droned endlessly, but the brain and all its healing mechanisms that he’d been lectured about seemed to be doing a ridiculously terrible job. He hissed as it burned again, and tried not to let the pain show on his face.

“Remus.”

Sirius looked up, startled at the non sequitur, then realized it had to be a name. His words were forced out and hoarse, and the contempt was clear in his voice.

“Get out, Remus.”

Remus sighed again, and Sirius felt his annoyance rise at the matter-of-fact tone he replied in. “Listen 617, here’s the thing, you-”

“Sirius.” He regretted giving the boy his name almost instantly when Remus raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, and Sirius could feel himself softening even as he gritted his teeth, made his face unwelcoming.

“Alright, Sirius,” Remus drew out the name slowly, as if testing it. “Here’s the thing. You’re pretending, and the longer you keep the pretense, the harder you’ll crash at the the end.”

Sirius found himself lost in the timbers of the Remus’ voice as it rose and fell. It was deeper, slightly hoarse too, and it felt -  _ real  _ \- in a way that-

“Bit late for that.” Sirius muttered.

“You’d think so, but lots of people try the denial route, you’re not too far in. Just gotta grit your teeth and face it.”

Sirius felt the irrational fury jolt through him again, and he could hear it seeping into his angry words. “Shut up. You don’t know the first thing about me so don’t-”

Remus laughed at that, the sound hard and bitter, and Sirius hated that he was half entranced with hearing a genuine expression of emotion, being near a real person, one who was -

“Please, Sirius. The nurses walk down the hallway on rounds discussing your bowel movements. There’s not anyone on this unit who doesn’t know the  _ first  _ thing about you.”

Sirius felt his jaw drop in bewilderment, felt the blush creeping onto his cheeks as Remus glanced down at him and smirked, all dry amusement and mocking and Sirius was having difficulty clinging to his righteous fury. But speaking of the nurses… Remus and Sirius both looked towards the doorway at the sound of raised voices and rushing movement, and Remus grimaced.

“That’s my cue.” He shifted to the edge of the bed, looking reluctant, then glanced back at Sirius. “So PT then? Your next session,” he scanned the whiteboard before looking back him sternly, “is right after lunch. I expect to hear you’ve done brilliantly.”

Sirius glowered at him, hating the urge in him to grab for Remus’ sleeve, to prevent him from leaving. His shift was probably over, he was probably headed home, had a successful mission under his belt, get the stupid patient to get his stupid head in order. Remus was shifting closer to the edge of the bed again, and Sirius gripped his sheets tightly and turned away from him, burying his face in his pillow with a huff. He knew he was being immature, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need Remus. Remus could leave, could never come back as far as he cared. But Remus was  _ real _ , he was - no, he was one of them. He’d been sent in like they’d sent everyone else, and he didn’t matter.

“Ace those sit to supines, Sirius. Nice to meet you.” The command sounded unwavering, and Sirius tightened his grip on his covers but didn’t turn to look at him. “And Sirius?” There was a moment of silence between them that seemed to stretch endlessly, then Sirius snarled and turned his head. Remus was leaning against the doorway, a smirk on his face, and he held up a hand, made a loose fist with it, then leaned down to tap lightly against his leg which - made a dull, solid thud. Sirius knew he was gaping as Remus straightened back up, but Remus just raised an eyebrow, then a sleeve, to reveal a white bracelet identical to the one tagged around Sirius’ wrist. “See you around, 617.” Then he’d slipped out of the doorway with one last satisfied nod and was gone.

Sirius lay back on his pillow, adjusting his leg with a muffled groan, heart suddenly racing. Remus was - a patient. He was -

A nurse - was her name Arabella or - bustled past his room with a tech, both frantically whispering, the nurse’s face drawn with worry as the tech murmured in a carrying voice, “-with 623 missing again, none of the transports have seen him, he’s only just dc’d the sitter again-”

“623?” The other nurse sounded puzzled. “Who - oh! You mean-”

Sirius smirked. 623, then. Was that across the hall or down further… So Remus had a sitter as well? The smirk faded from his face as he gazed at his hand, still lying to his side where Remus had held it. Remus was a patient then. Hadn’t been sent in at all. Had snuck out, by the sound of it. And he’d said - Well. It. It didn’t matter. None of it did. Fine, Remus understood more than he’d thought, but he didn’t know  _ him  _ , didn’t know Sirius and didn’t realize that whatever world Remus was living in, it wasn’t - it couldn’t be Sirius’ world. This wasn’t going to be his reality, he couldn’t  _ do  _ this, wouldn’t. He yanked his covers higher again, wincing as they tugged at the dressing but not glancing down at it. Glaring at the doorway, he shoved his face roughly into the pillow. No. Just… no.

The day passed in a blur of sending away nurses and techs and physical therapists and the social worker and unit manager who didn’t know when to let him  _ be _ , and before he knew it, seemingly a thousand hours had passed and another day was ending, the nurses off filling in the night shifts and finally, a bit of quiet. Which of course was when his door clicked open again. He turned with a snarl to send the tech away  _ again  _ , because it was ridiculous they had to introduce themselves  _ every single  _ time they changed shifts, why couldn’t they just come at the button’s call and leave him alone otherwise. But it wasn’t a tech, or a nurse, or hospital staff at all.

Remus looked furious as he limped into the room - had he been limping earlier? Sirius supposed he had never actually seen him in motion - gold eyes burning into him and a glare twisting his mouth. He threw himself onto the foot of Sirius’ bed, crossing his arms and levelling him with a lethal stare. Sirius almost forgot his righteous fury for a moment, and the silence stretched until he stammered, “What - what’s - what do you want now?” Remus’ eyes narrowed.

“Really?” He hissed, and Sirius blinked at the venom in his voice. Why was he so- “You missed some sessions today.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his own voice accusing when he hissed back. “How is that  _ any  _ of your business, get off my bed and -”

“You had part of a leg cut off.” Remus spat at him, eyes flashing. “Get over it and get to therapy. All these people tripping over themselves to help you? Do them a favour and quit feeling sorry for yourself.” Sirius’ eyes widened and he struggled angrily to sit up, but Remus’ hand pressed firmly on his chest when he tried to rise, keeping him flat on the bed as Remus leaned over him. “You have no other options. Get with the program. Get to therapy.”

Sirius opened his mouth, but Remus beat him to it, his voice low and angry. “Your life isn’t over, Sirius. Stop acting like it is. New beginning, fresh start, make a -”

“They can’t force me to stay,” Sirius shot out furiously, shoving with his other hand at the fingers so effortlessly keeping him pressed to his mattress. “I’ll - I’ll check myself out and-”

“Against medical advice? AMA? Do you even-” Remus gave a harsh laugh, cold and hard. “You check yourself out now and insurance covers nothing, you’re $40k in debt, Sirius.  _ And  _ you’re a brand new amputee with no-”

“Shut up!” Sirius’ voice rose with his fury, which was blazing white hot again, and he and Remus both glanced at the doorway. Remus lifted his hand from Sirius’ chest, clenching his fist on his own knee and breathing deeply, then wincing and curling over slightly. Sirius pushed himself partially onto his elbows, uncertain, as Remus took a few strained breaths, hair falling to hide his face.

“Are you-”

Remus held up a hand that seemed to tremble slightly, and Sirius felt - concern? Should he call the nurses? Why  _ had  _ Remus had a sitter? He already had a prosthetic so it couldn’t be for - Then Remus began to speak again, voice firm and demanding and Sirius felt the fury rise again.

“You don’t get to only see the world in terms of what you lost. Take a good hard look at what you’re missing, and what you’ve got-”

“I’m not  _ going _ to-” Sirius began furiously, but Remus interrupted him, furious gaze locking onto him again. Sirius fell silent, anger still simmering inside him at the gall of this  _ stranger  _ to-  

“No. You’re _ going  _ to shut up and  _ listen  _ .”

Sirius saw red, rage scorching inside him and washing everything else out, but his mouth had hardly opened when Remus leaned into his space with a hard jab at his chest and spat. “You’ve got a life to get to,” His eyes were blazing as he whispered furiously. “So snap the hell out of it, feast your eyes on the beginning of the rest of your life, and hit the gym. You’re going to need it. And you’re going to  _ use  _ it, and  _ like  _ it.”

Sirius had hardly opened his mouth when Remus straightened, head whipping to the doorway. Sirius did the same, straining his ears. The nurses had finished their huddle then, were getting back to -

“Sirius.” Remus had made it to the doorway, and he seemed to struggle for a moment, biting his lip, eyes still bright with anger, fists still clenched. Then he’d turned and was gone. Sirius let himself drop heavily onto the bed, exhaustion pulling at his limbs and filling his head with cement as the anger slowly drained from him.

_ Feast your eyes on the beginning of the rest of your life. _

But this wasn’t his life, it couldn’t be. He reached a shaking hand toward his… stump - he curled his fingers into a fist, raising his arm to rest the fist against his forehead. It wasn’t his life, it wasn’t.

_ You’ve got a life to get to. _

Did he? Sirius’ eyes burned, and he blinked furiously, then gritted his teeth. He lifted his hand from his face, holding it up and staring through his trembling fingers. Could he do this, could he - what was… what was the alternative. He had to be able to - he had to. Maybe… maybe he could… maybe he could do this. Hhe could do this, he  _ had to  _ -

_ New beginning- _

Gritting his teeth, he reached down quickly and let his fingers hover over the stump, eyes locked on the metallic lift hanging from the ceiling, anything but his… leg. A few seconds passed, and he bit his lip, then let his hand gently drift down. His fingers twitched as they rested on his thigh, then slowly, slowly moved downwards towards - nothing. The blankets fell away, and his fingers moved haltingly through the empty space.

Sirius glared up at the ceiling tiles as if each had personally wronged him, and clenched his fists again, crossing them over his chest, mind churning, dark and light and whirling worries and maybe a dash - just a dash - of… hope? Much, much later, he fell fitfully into sleep, brow still furrowed and fists loosely clenched. The next morning, with a terse nod and a begrudging attitude, Sirius was wheeled to PT, for the first of many, many, many sessions. Grudgingly, he had a life to get to. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t at it completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo explanation: Remus is 394, he's just been at the hospital for SO long that nurses on other units all call him that, even when he's transferred temporarily to their unit, which is why the nurse didn't remember that some new hires call him "623," and he is Not Well, you may find out why, but poor prognosis, he's on inpatient rehab for debility. If I say things that don't make sense to you, call me out please!  
> I am not yet satisfied with this fic, but if I wait till I am, it will never be posted, so very draft but hope you enjoy regardless!  
> Thanks VERY much for reading and supporting, please let me know what you think! :)


	2. Hills, Hills, Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there may at some point be more added between these chapters but for now...

**** The woman's bright smile never faltered as she gave him a final wave and swept out the door, leaving him with a scowl, yet another thick folder, and a crumpled booklet in his fist. He threw the folder onto the stack on his tray table, not glancing at the booklet as he passed it back and forth between his hands, irritated. At least this lady knew how to give a good pitch, yesterday's liaison had started out bluntly describing sub-acute rehab as a fancy nursing home that would supposedly be his only discharge option, and he'd had to resist hurling her folder back across the table at her. They'd been visiting, one after the other, for the past 4 days (yes, he'd been counting), letting him know his "options" and smugly describing their facilities, and it was more maddening for the fact that he was hardly alright with being here, but was definitely not ready to leave. To leave the intense therapy sessions and the nursing staff he'd grown to know so well and even, in some cases, to like a bit. To leave the PT and the OT who’d gotten him so much stronger and the patients who he'd started to grow close to. He'd taken to forcing himself to think of everyone by their room numbers, like the staff did, to prevent himself from getting too attached, but the patient's family members had been undoing that by going out of their way to befriend him. 6's mother had passed by again the other day and brought him homemade custard that still made his mouth water in memory, and 21's brother always cheered him on in the gym when he was standing in the parallel bars. And to leave Remus, when they'd grown so close, when they'd been spending most of every day together, when he'd started to think…

He glanced at his board automatically, considering. Remus would be out of his afternoon PT in 20 minutes, he could probably fit a nap into that time? He shoved the booklet onto the table, glaring at the sweeping font that declared “a holistic approach to recovery.” He reached for the buttons on the side of the bed, lowering it to flat, all the while muttering irritatedly about the brochures. For one thing, it was stupid that half these places were named after hills. Golden Hill Rehab, Springside Hills Care, Hills of Brookington Senior Living Community (“but of course you wouldn’t be in the older adults side of it, just the intensive therapies side!”) Considering a hill would be beyond most of their ability to face, it seemed inconsiderate that they’d name all the facilities after it. He closed his eyes, huffing frustratedly. The odds he’d get any sleep during the daytime on this unit were barely better than nighttime: nothing ever  _ stopped  _ here. When a pair of EMTs rolled a bed passed his room (another new admit, he assumed), wheels clattering loudly against the ground and both chattering away at the same time, he gritted his teeth. When PT inched by his room with a patient, shouting encouragement every other step, he clenched his eyes shut. When the food service cart went rattling by his room, he groaned. And when there was a slam against his door as Remus’ wheelchair’s IV stand collided roughly with his doorframe, he jolted up in bed, stared for a long moment, and grinned.

\---

“Well when they say watch for  _ any  _ redness or warmth along the incision, how the hell am I supposed to tell?” Sirius forced down a grin as Remus laughed. “And ‘increased pain’ that I’m supposed to report, am I ringing up the vascular surgeon on the hour?” Remus stretched against the backrest of his chair with a yawn, and Sirius glanced up at the IV that certainly hadn’t been there yesterday then leaned toward him, hesitantly asking, “Hey, why-” Remus leaned forward, mirroring him, and suddenly their faces were very, very close together, and Sirius felt his train of thought derail, pitching away from the tracks into a canyon. Remus’ eyes were bright, amused, hair falling just across his forehead and Sirius could so easily reach out and brush it aside…

“Why, um, why - aren’t we… allowed to s-swim?” Sirius stammered, latching onto the memory of the few things he remembered from the tech’s lecture yesterday; Remus laughed again, leaning back in his chair, to Sirius’ regret.

“I was planning to, and screw the lurking infections, but if we aren’t  _ allowed,  _ there go our evening plans I guess.” Remus sighed, crossing his legs to rest on one footplate. Sirius glanced down at them wistfully, then sat up straighter in his bed, raising the head of his bed to fully sitting up, then falling back against his pillows exhaustedly. Today’s PT had worn him out. He knew he was making progress, and could even admit to himself it was helping with the pain somewhat, but with session after session of PT and OT, he was always so worn when he got back to his room, and with Remus on a different schedule for therapy, he’d only managed to see him in the evenings when Remus made his way over to Sirius’ room, and even then only for ten-minute periods or so. He’d tried skipping lunch on Wednesday to go to Remus’ room, but Gideon, a nurse practitioner on the unit, had caught him and lectured him about the effects of nutrition on incision healing and he’d barely escaped to his room in time to gulp down fruit before his afternoon OT session.

Remus had picked up an amputee informational booklet from his table and was idly flipping through it with a smirk, and Sirius found his eyes wandering down to trace the curve of that smirk, up to the narrowed eyes, the slightly raised eyebrows. Sirius shook himself, taking a moment to wonder when Remus had become what he looked forward to most each day. He jolted in bed as a flare of pain made itself known, and he saw Remus lean forward even as he squeezed his eyes shut and fisted his hands in his sheet.

“Don’t-“ Sirius yelped, but Remus extended a finger and – tapped. Sirius blinked, eyes widening as he stared down at Remus tapping carefully around his knee with his index finger, firm taps, as the pain… eased. “What did you do?” Sirius asked breathlessly, and Remus carefully lifted his hand away and leaned back in his chair, shrugging.

“Tapping helps.”

Sirius stared down at his leg for a moment, reaching out a wavering hand, then hesitating. “I don’t…”

Remus rolled his eyes, picking up the booklet again to leaf through. “You’ve only got a few more seconds to try it before the ‘I’d tap that’ joke I’m holding back happens, so.”

Sirius felt his jaw slacken, and he whipped his head up to see Remus’ eyes hidden behind the booklet, mouth set in a smug smirk. Had Remus meant… was he… His cheeks warm and heart rate quicker, he shook his head and reached out slowly, and with a single finger tapped gently on the center of his knee. Ignoring the chuckled “pansy” with a grin, he tapped to the right, slowly moving around the dressing with a steady hand, and a rising feeling of elation. Finally,  _ finally,  _ something  _ he  _ could do that would relieve the pain, or ease it. The narcotics that had been so good at killing other pain had done nothing for the phantom sensation, and he’d repeatedly turned down the anti-seizure medications he’d been assured would help alleviate phantom pain: the list of side effects had been a mile long. Sirius felt his eyes prickle as the pain eased away with the tapping, and he held his hand up for a moment, blinking too fast.

“Some things will feel normal after an amputation, while others will not.” Remus read aloud in an overly innocent voice that made Sirius immediately suspicious. “Sexual activity is one example of this.” Sirius grabbed for the booklet, but Remus’ hand shot down and had wheeled his chair backwards and out of reach without looking up, and he continued reading with a grin in his voice. “You may resume sexual activity whenever you’re ready. Select a position that is comfortable for you-“ Sirius leaned dangerously far and snatched the booklet, face burning, as Remus leaned back in his chair and laughed. Sirius’ indignant expression lasted a moment before he was laughing as well, and Remus nudged himself closer again as Sirius flipped the booklet open himself, and his face sobered as he read quietly.

“Remember, phantom pain is normal, and over time, phantom sensations will fade.”

“They do,” Remus nodded matter-of-factly. “You’ll have the staples out before you know it, be fitted for the stump shrinker to get your prosthetic started, all that. Mind you, you do want to pay attention to the pain if it keeps coming, get it evaluated. Last thing you want is to have the whole process happen and then have vascular need to chop a bit more because you got an infection.” Sirius’ eyes widened and he felt a heavy weight in his chest at the idea of another surgery, an amputation taking even more, starting all this over. He couldn’t, he definitely couldn’t do it. “I was on the other side of that,” Remus said, shaking his head. “I reported every little thing to the team, to PT and to the doc, but with the pain – “ Remus grimaced a moment before continuing. “Well, I didn’t figure it was – I thought it was normal, like they said, and I didn’t feel it  _ that  _ much, it didn’t hurt enough that it seemed like I should worry, so I didn’t. Turned out to be a neuroma.” Seeing Sirius’ confused expression, he paused. “It’s just a bundle of nerves basically but it’ll hurt  _ months  _ after the incision has healed and you’ve recovered, so the pain is supposed to be obvious, but…” Remus gave a wry smirk, “chronic pain doesn’t leave much room for noticing.”

Sirius forced himself to stay relaxed against his cushions even as his mind whirred, adding this tiny hint of information to the admittedly miniscule amount he knew about Remus. He had known Remus wasn’t on this floor for the amputation, that had to be old since he had a fitted prosthetic already (and apparently his second, which - how). When he’d asked, Remus (after several very effective evasions, one of which he’d managed to rope the unit nutritionist  _ and  _ a student PT into) had replied offhandedly that he was here for debility. Sirius had of course googled this, and equally of course, had come up with absolutely nothing useful or definitive. He was sick, that was for certain, but Sirius still wasn’t sure with what. Chronic pain, debility… Sirius subtly glanced at the IV again, glancing away before he was noticed. He’d even, with only some shame, tried listening in on the attending physician’s rounds, and the nurse huddles. It had started out as an attempt to get even when Remus would loudly detail to him the consistency of his bowel movements as they'd been discussed in rounds that morning, but somehow Remus  _ never  _ came up. Which was… suspicious in its own way. He couldn’t always be arriving a second too early and missing, but 623 didn’t come up, no matter how many times he wheeled past them slowly, pausing for long periods to adjust his grip on the pushrim, the armrests.

He glanced up from his musings to see Remus’ expression had darkened as he stared dully at something in his hands. Sirius leaned forward and saw with a jolt that it was the Hillside Rehabilitation Center pamphlet he’d gotten from the ridiculously tall man who’d stopped in yesterday, gleaming braces shining awkwardly from a 50-year-old mouth.

“Are you…” Remus’ voice was strained, and trailed away. Sirius watched as his throat worked silently for a moment. “Have you been thinking about where to - go from here?” Remus’ voice wavered at the end, and Sirius shook his head vehemently.

“I’ve been operating on don’t look, don’t touch policy.” Sirius was proud of the lack of bitterness in his voice, and frowned as Remus tilted his head further down, expression hidden. “Have  _ you  _ been-”

“So same policy you had about your amputation, then?” Remus murmured, and when he looked up the shadow had lifted from his face, though his voice was still tight with something. “That worked out pretty well for you.”

Sirius huffed, reveling in the smirk this brought to Remus’ face. “Yeah, no doubt I’ll be bullied out of this avoidance too, huh?”

Remus grinned sharply. “Bullying? I prefer to think of it as intense motivation to participate in your own well-being.”

Sirius’ smile softened despite himself, and his voice was absolutely completely steady. “I never did thank you for that, Remus. You really-”

“Nope.” Remus announced firmly. “No weird gratitude shpiels, you have your first RT session in 5 minutes and there shall be no shows of emotion begun that can’t be ended.” His arms were crossed across his chest, and Sirius  snapped a mock salute even as he felt his smile widen.

“I don’t see what the point is in RT at this point, I’m almost independent in my room by now, why do I need ‘community time’ anyway? She said she’s gonna take me to Tim Hortons or something, what’s that do for me?”

“One day you’ll learn,” Remus said gravely, expression solemn, and Sirius attempted a straight expression, “that there is never a reason needed to venture into the outside world from here, especially not to Tim Hortons.”

Sirius’s grin had barely formed when he groaned at the tap on the door.

“I still have 3 minutes!”

The transport, an unfamiliar one to Sirius, shrugged in the doorway, holding up her hands. “I just go where they tell me, man.” Sirius’ eyebrows shot up as she turned to Remus with a smirk. “And good to see you finally out of bed, Remus, that laziness really didn’t become you.” 

And that was something else, Sirius thought. Even for having been on the unit longer than him, Remus knew… well,  _ everyone.  _ And not just on this unit either. He seemed to have inside jokes with every single member of the environmental services staff, laughing with them as they changed out the linens, and Sirius was starting to suspect he had the name of every single tech memorized, because last week’s had been a sub he’d never met, and Remus had casually mentioned her by name that evening. Yesterday he’d even seen the interventional radiology team stop to greet him in the hall, and Remus had asked about one of their children’s school performances, which -  _ how? _

He realized Remus was still deep in conversation with the transport, and scowled. She was pushing into his  _ two minutes _ . She snorted a laugh, and Remus shook his head and sighed as if put upon. Sirius felt a bizarre urge to wave, to draw Remus’ attention back to him, and suppressed it by turning to the transport again.

“I’ll leave you in capable hands then, Sirius. Marlene has gotten patients lost a  _ maximum  _ of 7 times.” Sirius raised an eyebrow as Marlene rolled her eyes, and Remus’ suppressed laughter became more obvious. “Definitely not more than 7 times. Definitely.  _ That  _ would be ridiculous. I mean, how big is the hospital to even-”

“ _ I  _ have an appointment to get to,” Marlene interrupted loudly, grinning, and Remus laughed, Sirius shaking his head because  _ you have it bad, Black.  _ “And a patient to get to that appointment so if you don’t  _ mind. _ ”

Remus laughed, tossing the brochure Sirius realized had still been crumpled in his hand onto the bedside table and turning to wheel away.

“Hey!” Sirius called, and Remus turned, Sirius’ eyes drawn again to the swaying IV, darting back down to the soft smile that once again managed to blank his mind. Remus and Marlene watched him expectantly, Remus beginning to grin smugly, and Sirius wracked his brain.

“Catch me after PT tomorrow, I’ll bring you back a Timbit.” The breathless stammer somehow came out challenging, and Remus raised an eyebrow then grinned with a nod, tipping both an imaginary hat and the entire rest of Sirius’ self control to not beam in a ridiculous obviously fond manner.

“Till tomorrow then.” Remus wheeled around Marlene, giving her a nudge with his shoulder and uncrossing his legs properly before rounding the doorway with a wave, and vanishing down the hall.

Till tomorrow. Remus had tossed it out along with the smiles that were so frequent recently, and the company he “generously graced” Sirius with despite his “really busy,  _ might  _ be able to slot you in after lunch, my secretary will get back to you” schedule. Sirius grinned as he thought back to his first few days on the unit, the way Remus had brushed past him angrily in the halls, had been so fed up with his sulking after that first day they’d met. How had they gotten here? Their first time having lunch, Remus had unceremoniously limped into the room and snatched the salad from his lap, throwing himself heavily into the armchair beside the bed, and sighing loudly until Sirius, who had been fed up himself that day, and had snapped at him to shut up or leave. Of course, Remus had smothered a grin at the frustration and had instead reclined the chair, put his feet up on the bed, and chewed progressively louder and louder in a more exaggerated way until they were both laughing themselves to tears.

After that, he’d started expecting Remus’ daily visits, and Remus had definitely warmed to him since then. He still didn’t take complaining well, didn’t have patience for whining about slow progress or - Sirius sat up straight, brows furrowing. Remus had  _ limped  _ in the first time… And he’d had crutches a few days later… And then a wheelchair. Today a wheelchair with an IV. Sirius had been getting better and recovering but Remus had… only gone downhill, it seemed. Had he really not noticed? Sirius grimaced; no doubt Remus had contributed to that, never wanting to be seen as having any weakness. He remembered the only time they’d run into each other in the PT gym, when Remus had been leaving just as Sirius had entered, late for a session. Remus had looked absolutely exhausted (not a change from his usual appearance), and Sirius couldn’t even remember the comment he’d made that made or which OT passing had laughed, but Remus had raised an eyebrow and mouthed “it’s on” with a sharp grin. Sirius grinned, his face warming even remembering, then flushed darker at a loud, deliberate clearing of throat. He’d gotten lost in his thoughts, forgotten that he was - 4 minutes late to the session now. Great.

Marlene was smirking, and Sirius felt a wave of defensiveness, moving to begin the wheelchair transfer with a deliberately straight face. Her face smoothed into a faux innocent expression that reminded him of the one Remus had had half an hour ago, just before he brought up the time Sirius had steered himself into the door 4 times in a row (something Remus took a special satisfaction in bringing up repeatedly, of course) - Sirius caught himself, and had to suppress a grin. Was he gone to the level of  _ everything  _ reminding him of Remus? It was only when they were halfway down the hall, passing the unit pantry, that Marlene murmured slyly, “You know, Remus  _ is _ si-”

An enthusiastic voice cut across her before Sirius’ own hasty interruption could be voiced. “There he is! Ready for the community trip? Oh, it’s going to be wonderful!” A short, hijabi woman he’d seen in the halls a few times was waiting at the hallway junction just below the entrance to the unit, practically vibrating with energy so that Sirius had trouble making out “Mary” on her nametag. Marlene saluted her, and Mary grinned, holding open her arms for Marlene to launch herself into a hug and spin her around before setting her down, both giggling. Sirius stared for a moment, then grinned. Marlene caught his expression and grinned herself, nudging Mary with a raise of eyebrows that made him wary. “Sorry we were so late Mars,  _ Remus  _ was keeping Sirius a bit  _ busy _ .” The emphasis on the last word and its implications made him redden, and Mary took one look at his expression and burst into laughter, which Marlene joined her in emphatically. He crossed his arms, leaning against the backrest with a scowl. Why was everyone against him today? Even the charge nurse had seemed to smirk at him when he’d waved at Remus across the unit that morning. Marlene grinned at his sullen expression, but the bulky hospital cell phone strapped to her waist let out a trill, and she sighed as she lifted it to her ear.

“It’s Marlene.” In one smooth motion, she’d lifted Mary into another tight hug, deposited her behind the wheelchair, and swept away down the hall, red scrubs flashing under the lights as she gave a wink, wave, and turned the corner. He looked up to see Mary smiling softly, before she straightened and beamed at him, energy in no way diminished. She was just as energetic on their 4th attempt at a car transfer from the wheelchair, at Sirius’ blatant refusal to face people’s stares by leaving the car and the subsequent drive through order, and she even had a self-satisfied grin when she dropped Sirius back at his room that evening with a murmur of “Remus’ favourite are the chocolate glazed.” And after the tech had helped him get ready for bed and he’d waved off nursing for the night, he didn’t brood over the exhausting PT and OT sessions he’d have in the morning, or the inevitable sub-acute rehab representatives that would be presenting their probably-hill-related facilities, or the social worker’s impending visit to discuss “options.” This time, he let himself think back on the day, on Remus’ grins and laughs and obvious happiness. Sirius buried his face in the pillow and beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys this fic is so great in my head because there's so much to it but I can't seem to write it the way I want to at all, I wish I had a talented writer I could just feed ideas to and have these fics happen because some are incredible and ah I want to read them so badly  
> Thanks so much for reading and supporting!!


	3. Ready for the Next

The social worker hadn’t even left the room before Sirius was grinding his teeth and shoving his table aside. Choices, she needed him to provide her with his top choices to start sending referrals. And then  _ what  _ exactly? But what did she care, because once he discharged to whatever facility accepted the referral, he’d be  _ their  _ responsibility, she didn’t  _ have  _ to care.

“Impulsivity!” A familiar voice crowed from the doorway, and Sirius felt a smile rise, unbidden, to his face, some of the frustration melting away. He shoved the discharge planning folder to the side of the tray and looked over to the doorway to find a very pale Remus leaning heavily against it, crutches tucked to the sides, grinning delightedly. “What did you  _ do _ ?” 

Sirius tried to force an indignant expression onto his face as Remus pushed off the doorway to limp shakily over to his bed. He dropped unsteadily onto the foot of the bed, letting out a startled exhale, then bit his lip as he slowly extended his left leg to rest alongside Sirius, feet just touching his hip and their knees warm against each others’, his other leg dangling off the side of the bed. He left the crutches leaning precariously against the tray table, and Sirius looked away from the stacks of untouched pamphlets beside the folder as if they would scorch his eyes. Not yet, not yet. Sirius turned to look at Remus, who was still exhaling deeply to regulate his breathing even as his forehead furrowed with discomfort. He was much paler than Sirius had last seen him, he noted, the shadows under his eyes darker in comparison. But this seemed to fall away as a grin split Remus’ face and he turned to face Sirius, voice much too gleeful. “Didn’t even warrant a telesitter so it can’t have been that bad, right?”

Sirius frowned in confusion. “Telesitter?” 

A look of disgust flashed across Remus’ face before he looked away, his eyes fixed firmly on the outlets behind the bed. “Yeah, they’re like… video sitters, I guess. Picture a video camera on an IV stand sitting in front of your bed day and night with you never getting any privacy but they won’t put a real sitter in because hell forbid the medical record shows they couldn’t keep a patient compliant, and the nurses don’t trust you not to-” He cut himself off, clenching his jaw, his eyes stormy. But a moment later, he gave a sigh and his expression loosened. He chuckled as he turned back to Sirius. “It’s just another level of creepy.” 

Sirius shook his head incredulously. “I had a sitter back when I was in the SICU and still… fighting…” 

Remus grimaced and went to speak, but Sirius hurried on before he could start on that again. “But what’s some remote person watching me on a screen supposed to do if I drag myself to freedom?” 

Remus laughed, then quickly arranged his face into a stern expression. “They have a mic and snap at you. But stop changing the subject, come on, you have to tell me what you did to get tagged impulsive.”

Sirius couldn’t help but grin at Remus’ eager expression even as he shook his head mournfully. “It was nothing, Remus, they were overreacting.” 

This only made Remus grin wider, and he leaned forward, propping his chin on his elbows, eyes wide and teasing. 

Sirius laughed again, then sighed and shook his head, muttering. “I tried to transfer out of my chair to bed. Not a big deal.” But Remus nodded eagerly, motioning him to go on and pretending to scoot forward, wincing as it jostled his outstretched leg. Sirius sighed, the story spilling out, his tone going from defensive to resentful as he avoided Remus’ understanding smirk and traced the curve of the wall’s molding with his gaze. Remus was silent for a long moment when he finished, and Sirius chanced a glance down at him and found his expression solemn. Then Remus reached out to take Sirius’ hand, and Sirius’ brain buzzed into numbness for a moment. He was dizzy with how much he craved this touch, a warm touch that wasn’t gloved, wasn’t cool and assessing, didn’t have a purpose and Remus’ hands were soft, a light tremor in them and - 

“Sirius.” Remus said seriously, and Sirius determinedly didn’t blush as he hurriedly focus on Remus’ words even as he remained hyperaware of the feeling of  _ right  _ radiating from where Remus’ fingers rested on his. Remus’ eyes were dancing with mirth, and his tone couldn’t mask the mischief that belied his somber tone as he continued. “Sirius, are you on a bed alarm ?” 

Sirius scowled as Remus burst out laughing, and he attempted to ignore the fluttering in his chest as he lightly shoved Remus’ shoulder with his free hand, the other still trapped (basking) under Remus’. But his indignant words were lost as he noticed the tremors running through Remus’ slim frame through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, the heat radiating from him. Remus noticed the expression on his face and his smile faded. 

“What?” His expression has closed off and his tone was defensive, but Sirius plowed ahead, tone firm. 

“You’re shaking.” And he didn’t let Remus interrupt as he pointed out, “And I think you have a fever.” 

Sirius jumped as Remus growled, and couldn’t help the throb of disappointment as the hand over his withdrew to reach for the crutches. Remus cursed under his breath, and his tone was bitter and terse as he snarled, “I told them, I told them I’d spike if I didn’t taper, how long have I had to drag this stupid thing around, do they think I don’t know this body, that I don’t - they don’t listen to  _ me _ , don’t listen to  _ acute _ , they-” But he gave Sirius a wary glance and fell silent, shoulders stiff as he murmured in a gentler voice, “Sorry Sirius, I should… go.” Sirius felt a pang and lifted a hand to reach for Remus’ arm, but caught himself and fisted it in the sheets beside him instead, resisting. Remus winced, exhaling tremulously as he lowered the other leg over the side of the bed, facing away. Sirius shook himself mentally. If Remus wasn’t well, he needed to go back, Sirius knew that. But still… He’d said acute, and if he was still being followed by- 

“Is it a... site infection?” Sirius asked tentatively as Remus adjusted his crutches and braced to rise. But Remus paled, his eyes deadening for a moment before the expression shuttered and he forced a lighter tone that still wavered as he answered, “God, I hope not, that’d kill.” Sirius felt something inside him tighten as Remus forced an odd, hollow smile, then lunged forward as Remus let out an aborted gasp and squeezed his eyes shut as he made to stand. But Remus held up a hand, breathing arduously with his squeezed shut, then tried to push off the bed again. His shoulders shook with the strain, and Sirius only hesitated a moment longer before reaching out slowly to settle a hand on Remus’ shoulder. He bit his lip at the heat and trembling. 

“Hey.” Sirius said softly, and counted it as a victory when Remus didn’t shrug off his hand and instead sank back onto the bed, eyes still tightly shut. They sat in silence for what seemed like a long moment, and Sirius fought the urge to tighten his grip, to pull Remus closer and- He shook his head, blushing, and Remus opened his eyes at the movement and met his gaze. His golden eyes were frustrated and angry, and Sirius needed that smile back, needed him to laugh like he had before, and he racked his brains. “Take it from the impulsive, Remus. Give it a sec.” Remus’ expression faltered, and Sirius held his breath. Then a smile broke across Remus’ face, and he laughed even as he winced and hunched over slightly. Sirius felt a leap of joy at the high, clear laugh, and he tightened the hand on Remus’ shoulder reflexively. Remus took another deep breath, steadying himself, and readjusted his leg with grimace, then seemed to nod to himself. When he looked up again, Sirius leaned back automatically at the mischievous grin. 

“Speaking of impulsivity,” Remus whispered, leaning forwards, and Sirius felt his cheeks burn again and his pulse rocket as Remus leaned forward, his long fingers reaching forward past Sirius’ chest to - 

Click. 

Sirius’ eyes widened at the sound, and he ripped his gaze from Remus’ triumphant one to check because he wouldn’t , Remus wouldn’t actually - 

“Please remain in your bed. A nurse is on the way.” The mechanic voice rang out from beside him. “Please remain in your bed. A nurse is on the way. Do not attempt to get up on your own. Please remain in your bed.” 

Remus had, he’d activated the bed alarm, damn it, and the nurses would add that to his record and the therapy team would hear which meant PT was going to - He huffed frustratedly and turned to shoot a glare at Remus, but it melted away before even forming at the genuine happiness that washed through Remus’ laugh and shining eyes and the way the weight seemed to drop from his shoulders. Sirius snickered, and for a moment they were both chuckling as they looked between the door and the alarm, counting it silently with broad grins. 

Then Kingsley was towering in the doorway, expression utterly unamused as he surveyed them, Sirius still leaning back in the bed, a hand on Remus’ arm as he sits on the edge of the bed, legs dangling and crutches held loosely. 

Kingsley’s deep, mellow voice sounded exasperated. “Really? Is this going to be a thing, then?” 

Remus shot him a grin as he let the crutches clatter to the ground and winked, but the effect was ruined by his shuddering and the way he was now swaying slightly. Kingsley sighed, and Remus let his eyes flutter shut and exhaustion darken his face again. Sirius tightened his grip on his arm, and the corners of Remus’ mouth twitched even as he grimaced again. Kingsley was back in an instant, wheelchair beside him, and Remus opened exhausted eyes to raise a shaking finger to tap Sirius’ chest. Sirius’ face flushed again as Remus leaned even closer, and his eyes were fever bright but teasing as he whispered, “Get rid of that Fall Risk bracelet, Sirius, I’m still waiting on you to visit me if I’m - when the - later. After PT.” 

There was a long moment of quiet bustle as Kingsley smoothly, efficiently transferred Remus into the chair with only a short gasp as he was shifted. Kingsley laid a comforting hand on Sirius’ shoulder, locking eyes with him for a moment, his gaze assessing before it softened and he nodded. “Give me a ring if you want to move to the chair later, Sirius.” Sirius nodded even as he cringed, but Remus’ eyes had already shot open and he gave an exhausted crow of laughter. “Are you on lap belt restrictions, Sirius? Does little Sirius need to be tied to his chair?” Sirius stuck his tongue out childishly before adopting a wounded expression as Remus cackled. 

“Shut up.” Sirius said with dignity, and Remus smiled as Kingsley turned the chair to wheel him out. Sirius saw his face lapse back into exhaustion as he was turned, and his mind whirled. “Oh, and Remus?” He called desperately, and Kingsley paused just in the doorway, turning the chair so Remus could look up at him again. Sirius tried to push the warmth he was feeling into his smile as he grinned self-assuredly. “I’ll - I’ll ace that sliding board later.” Remus looked taken aback for a second, then he beamed, and Sirius felt a ballooning of joy leaping in his chest. Then Kingsley had turned through the doorway with an incline of his head, and they were gone. The smile was slow to fade from his face as he looked down at his hands, then glanced up at the whiteboard. OT wasn’t due back for another half hour, and he knew they’d want to make tea again or do puzzles or whatever the hell they had on the agenda for that day. He sighed heavily, lowering the bed to stare at the tiles above him. He’d told Remus this was what he was going to do, and it was simple as that. 

But he glared venomously at the stupid bed alarm as he shifted away from it, and turned to glower at the disgusting lap belt that was draped innocently across his chair. There was a special satisfaction, he fumed, that medical staff got from stripping any last strip of dignity from a person. He clenched his fist tightly at the memory of his assisted shower that morning, of OT’s “self care assistance” in the bathroom every morning, of the stump he still couldn’t think about, couldn’t - couldn’t. And they were trying to talk discharge at him? He shook his head, then stilled. Breathe. Focus. One step (step, ha) at a time. There was a knock at the door, and a moment later, Frank from OT was grinning conspiratorially at him from the doorway. Sirius exhaled, then squared his shoulders. He had a sliding board transfer to perfect. 

 

“Well, we were able to dc 14’s lap belt, so he might be able to go as soon as tomorrow morning, it’ll be 24 hours without restraints as of 8am.” A nurse’s voice floated into his room and he cocked his head, trying to remember which one 14 was through his daze of exhaustion. OT had wiped him out, and he'd had a PT session afterwards that he was proud of, that he'd certainly be bragging about to Remus later, but... 14, he thought it might be the helmeted woman he kept seeing struggle in the parallel bars. Or was it the man with the eye patch who was always working on cognitive puzzles at the table? The nurse had continued talking as he zoned out, but he focused back in when she said, “394 is off to the OR, there’s still a dozen consults and he’s being followed by - well, everyone from acute, and you know his prognosis-” Sirius frowned. This unit was 6E, and the number only went up to 633. When they talked about patients, it was always “18” for 618 or “7” for 607. Why would they mention a patient on a different floor? 

“Don’t let Pomfrey hear you say that,” another voice said, and Sirius realized the nurse was walking with the unit social worker. “Even if we don’t have to send him back to acute tonight after the OR, she’ll be up here for your head quicker than-” 

Come to think of it, when the rounding team had been blathering outside his room those first few days, he’d heard them mention 394 too. From what he can remember, 394 hadn’t been doing so well back then, because they’d been panicked and talked about antibiotics a lot. 

“Never a drive-by with him, that’s for sure,” Sirius looked up again as they both sighed at that, then shrugged and focused. How was it that every time he saw Remus, he looked worse? It was hard to believe there’d been a point when he’d not realized Remus was a patient. Remus wasn't on contact precautions, so there shouldn't be a reason a tech wouldn't be willing to wheel him to 623 if he asked. Still, he hesitated, hand hovering over the call button. Remus had seemed exhausted, had seemed worse, unwell. He sighed, then shook himself mentally. Remus would tell him if and when he wanted to, and until then, it didn't matter. He reached for the remote and pressed firmly on the call button, before he could change his mind. He turned to toss the remote onto the tray table before realizing it was coated in promotional materials for his... discharge. He wondered if Remus had the same materials stacked up somewhere in his room. He'd been here longer, surely he was discharging soon as well, and perhaps... No, he couldn't let himself thinking about discharging to the same place as Remus, about the future, about where he would go, who he would... become. He could hardly bring himself to ask when the staples would be removed, when he'd get the stump shrinker to start towards a prosthetic. He'd rather ask Remus than reach out for the surgeon again; they'd been no use for all his other questions, showing up whenever he was too bleary and exhausted to question anything and quickly excusing themselves after giving his wound a perfunctory look. 

There was a knock at the door, and he startled, having forgotten for a moment that he'd pressed the call light. How was it that with a stream of people entering his room every day for weeks that he still got startled every time? Remus never seemed to blink and - Right, Remus. And the tech was asking what he needed. 

"I was wondering if I could transfer to my chair? I've been cleared to wheel around the unit now." His voice was smooth and confident, and he saw the tech, Benjy, glance at the neon yellow fall risk bracelet around his wrist, raising his eyebrows. Sirius rolled his eyes, gesturing at his whiteboard. "My PT's Alice, you can ask her yourself." 

"He doth defend himself suspiciously quick, methinks." Benjy teased, and Sirius gripped the bed rails as he raised himself to sitting. 

"Well, you doth suspect too much, methinks." Sirius huffed, and deliberately made no sounds of discomfort as he was shifted into the wheelchair. Benjy hovered at his side for a moment, until Sirius groaned and waved him away. "I'm fine, I'm good, go, go, I'll go when I feel like it." 

Benjy grinned in the doorway, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like "there he is." 

"Excuse you," Sirius began indignantly, but Benjy laughed and ducked out of the room. Sirius took a moment to breathe, to force down the annoyance that never seemed to fade, that he would need help with something like this, that he couldn't even get out of bed without- Focus. Remus. It was already getting late, and if Remus had seemed tired earlier, he wanted to go before he was completely worn out. Where had he put the gloves they'd given him? The first week, he'd gotten calluses, blisters on his hands from propelling the wheelchair, and he was sure he'd had the gloves on - the tray table. Under all the pamphlets and the discharge folder. Of course.

He shook his head in frustration. He'd have to do without. From the hallway, the unit manager's quiet, firm voice drifted, announcing the day's discharges, and he paused to listen. 4 had gone, he'd hardly arrived a few days ago, had seemed awfully nice, but Sirius had no idea what he was doing on a unit like this when he seemed perfectly healthy and well, walking around the unit perfectly on his first day. Good for him, his sister had seemed anxious when he'd seen her in the gym. He tuned back in as he flexed his arms, preparing. 13 was heading out soon, and Sirius grinned as he remembered how she'd constantly hit on every PT to attempt to get through a session with her. He hoped he was that peppy if he ever had a stroke. The unit manager was still talking, voice very somber now, but it had dropped in volume, and he thought he heard her say a room that ended in 4. 24 perhaps? He couldn't be leaving yet, he was hardly speaking in full sentences. 

"-to the OR, but he's... Pomfrey has been-"

He tuned out as the unit manager was interrupted by a nurse, and shook his arms out in preparation. Focus, Sirius. Focus. Remus. 

 

His arms burned as he wheeled forward, pausing to take a break. He'd seen Remus' door before, had paid attention to room 623 when his PT sessions took place in the hall, but he'd never seen the inside of the room. It was lucky it was as close as this, because he probably, he thought bitterly, wouldn't have been able to make it any further. Even now, he had to remember who he was heading for to get his arms to push any further. The door to 623 was open up ahead, and the closest nurse was down the hall, typing away on a computer on wheels, or as Remus called it, c-o-w. He smirked, remembering Remus' wild tale of having been run over by a rushing nurse with a rogue c-o-w, and Remus' breathless laughter when Sirius had interjected "moo" throughout their next conversation. Hesitating only for a moment, he wheeled himself forward the final amount, to peer into the darkened room. His eyes widened, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. There was a dizzying moment as his heart seemed to slam in his ears, his thoughts racing and blurring. 

Last week, 28 and his husband had been in the family waiting room down the hall, trying to get random strangers to sign his advance directive paperwork to ensure his husband would be able to make his medical decisions if... the worst happened. Apparently, no family members or medical staff were allowed to sign as witnesses, so it had come down to random patients and visitors signing their forms. Then, just 3 days later, Sirius had seen 28's husband by the stairwell, being embraced by an elderly woman he had seen in passing in the halls. Both had been sobbing openly, loudly, in the way that made passerbys feel uncomfortable. Sirius had continued down the hall, and when he'd passed 28's room, his throat had closed, chest constricted.

Sirius felt himself sliding down in his chair now as his breaths came faster, panicked gasps of air, vision dimming, because this was-

28's bed had been made perfectly, the whiteboard completely blank, the walls bare, the lights off. The room had looked sterile, eternally empty; it looked ready for the next.

It looked like Remus' room did now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Major Character Death tag guys he just transferred off but he probably won't meet criteria to re-admit to the Rehab unit and he'll discharge back to Pomfrey who is his attending when he's 394 and guys how is this ship so beautiful I love them


End file.
